The upward slope renewed their energy and no one looked back, not even Father Lemoine. After a short run in the winding tunnel they found themselves in a familiar room: this one had five doorways and they exited from one of four on the far right. This was the original room they started in. Relief came over them and they quickly caught their breath. Most couldn’t even fathom how their old leader had kept such a quick pace as most of them had been winded.
Father Donovan was tired, very tired, but when faced with what is sure to be a nasty end you can push your body to do extraordinary things and so he had. He would need a vacation in the very near future but that plan was far off and they still had a good distance to travel. Their pursuers had not given up; the only thing they had was the day. Time had come and gone, and when they emerged, they would be greeted by the moon and not the cherished light of the sun.
Even in their weakened state, the light of the two torches was significant in the small room but they appeared to dim at the same time. The fact was sobering: there was no way they could both be going out at the same time naturally. They faded steadily. They had been found again.
The monks ran toward the doorway leading to the stairs of the crypt. They felt the pursuit though they didn’t hear it and now they couldn’t even see it because the torches had completely extinguished. They ran up the stairs, using their hands as guides on the wall beside them and their brothers in front of them.
Father Lemoine thought about how he would hate steps from now on. He only wished he could run up them faster. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, the telltale sign of danger, or at least shattered nerves. He was almost to the top, and he understood some acrobatics might be needed to exit the top of the stairs because they landed in the large sarcophagus. Nearing the top with a few bodies in front of him, he pulled out his short sword for no apparent reason other than the fact it seemed like a good idea. Against his better judgment, he stopped in mid-stride, turned in place and thrust it into the darkness behind him.
The feeling came instantly, like he had hit a sack of wheat and was followed by the howl of a wounded animal. In the darkness the eyes appeared only a foot away, two fierce red beads boring into him, followed by the pale hands that reached up and grasped at his sword arm, squeezing and scratching, demanding the release of the blade. That he would not do: he pushed the blade farther into the creature and saw those eyes diminish. But that would not be the end of it. In that darkness appeared more eyes coming his way, and he released that blade, letting it remain. He turned to finish climbing those stairs and once again was met by the hands of his brothers, grabbing him and pulling him from the mouth of that pit.
Emerging into the crypt, a place he and most of the others present honestly never thought they would see again, he stepped aside. As soon as he was clear, the others, who had positioned themselves behind the great limestone lid, pushed with all of their might to seal the thing back. The sound of the grating stone moving fast was inspiring, and as it moved the grating created a dust that rose up in the air. The other sound that came was from the steps below, a more unwelcome sound.
They hesitated no longer; as soon as the lid was secure they hurried up the few remaining steps to reach the inner floor of the great ruined priory and fresh air. They all reflexively sighed with relief and gazed at the moon, not even paying much attention to their brothers whom they had left behind on the surface and who were standing, ready and waiting.
With the last of them emerging and standing clear they took note of what their brothers had been busy doing all this time. Three of them came over and stood next to a large piece of metal that was standing vertically over one edge of the entry down. The metal piece was pushed and it abruptly fell over, covering the hole completely and snapping into place within the large frame that had been bolted securely to the stone floor. The monks looked impressed. Most had not even been aware of the precaution that had been planned from the beginning.
They stood in silence after the lid closed heavily. They waited for something—anything, to come. Now only silence reigned, and everyone wanted to know what they were waiting for—why were they not leaving, and leaving in a hurry?
Father Donovan and Father Lemoine remained transfixed on their ingenious contraption and wondered if the thing would work. The other thought that ran across the faces of the more observant was why there were two round pieces that stood out from the smooth surface of the plate of metal. After moments of silence and anxious looks all around, Father Donovan looked at the monks who were in charge. The two monks were wearing rather strange backpacks. The dark night sparked as they lit the ends of the contraptions and walked rapidly over to the lid, then hesitated. The lid shook violently, and several monks jumped. Father Lemoine motioned for two of the monks, who moved the round metal pieces to the side, exposing two holes about five inches across. The backpack-wearing monks moved into position and placed the ends of their guns in front of the holes, the banging stopped for a second at the sight of the small flames that danced on the ends. When they unleashed the stream of fire from their flamethrowers, the tomb became a furnace of death.
The howling from below was otherworldly. Sounds of excruciating pain emanated as the tomb filled with a torrent of liquid fire. The monks continued to unleash their purging flames without relent until their tanks ran dry. The now-blackened lid glowed hot. The latches that held it in place had melted to the lid and the stone floor. Silence again descended as Father Donovan issued a blessing over the lid and the tomb. Some wondered if he was also praying for the souls who had given chase to them only to find their death.
A small victory in place, Father Lemoine spoke. “Home.”
“Yes, it would seem that we have done all that we can here,” Father Donovan said soberly, their small victory cut short.
“Every man is to ride as fast as he can to the monastery,” Father Lemoine ordered. “We do not know how long this will hold. There are many things we don’t know.”
The monks made their way to their horses tied up outside the ruins, and with everyone who had survived accounted for they took one last look at the scene. The moon was there; the last remnants of the day were long gone. The church stood out like a skeleton whose bleached bones contrasted with the black hollowness of its core but at the heart of it all was a shining plate of metal that also stood out, almost giving life to this place again … preternatural life.
The fog was emerging from the woods and was finding its home amongst the tombstones dotting the lawn. No one wanted to wait around and see if that fog would bring anything else. They pushed their steeds to their limits, knowing a quick journey was their only hope, lest they fall victim like so many from the small cottages they passed on the trek to the priory. A type of plague had come through here, and now they were running from it.
chapter THIRTY-TWO
THE DAY PASSED all too fast, and even though they had completed everything they had hoped for, the night wasn’t welcome, at least for all but Sebastian. He stood in one of his favorite spots, on top of the Lonely Tower, lit by the braziers marking the location of their monastery to all who looked from a distance. He marked the time by the rising of Mother Moon; that was his timepiece and the timepiece of his most unwelcome family. He waited for a sign, a herald giving news to what had taken place without him, a fight he couldn’t take part in. He knew that as time passed the chance of good news would be small and their fight here almost impossible.
He was soon joined by Jacob and Jessica. This night was just as beautiful as the previous one. Beauty can be deadly; many things in nature are beautiful for an ugly purpose—to attract with the intent of killing. Every coin has two sides; they just hoped their luck would err on the side of beauty for beauty’s sake and not the darker side where their other future might be.
They remained silent, no words needing to be said, and watched from their perch as they saw small lights come to life in the woods. This was not a surprise to them; this was part of their meager
plan—to light small contained fires surrounding their stronghold, lighting the area and maybe giving just warning to any who would approach. The monks out in the woods knew they were in extreme danger to be so far from the castle by themselves, but this had to be done.
The night literally glowed with the fires, and Sebastian was taken back to nights so long ago when the area around the castle had been one big encampment, from a small village to a small town that had cropped up around its base. This night was different, he knew: there was no small town to defend the castle. These fires were unmanned sentries only able to give light to any advancing danger. Would their adversaries laugh when they saw this was the defense offered? Might it even embolden them? Sebastian hoped so; much depended on this.
Time passed. This was both good and bad. The more time that went by, the chances of their friends returning safely diminished, but also, the more time that went by, the shorter the night would be and the less time for their enemies to win. This night would prove to be pivotal; they would either win or lose the Lonely Tower this night. Sebastian turned to the twins and regarded his friends.
“I do not know how much I will be able to do to protect you. Assuming the others return safely, you will be protected by some of Father Lemoine’s guard. If things go bad, then you must retreat to one of the inner rooms of the crypt below. They only have one entrance and it has been designed completely against them,” he said pulling a large key from his pocket and handing it to Jessica.
“Do you really think it will come to that?” Jacob asked.
“At this point I do not hold out hope. I hate to seem bleak but they have not returned and … if they do not, it is likely the castle is lost. There is not much of a defense we could put up.”
After Sebastian’s words left his mouth, calls rang out and their sight shifted to the woods leading west to the priory. Within moments the first horse appeared. Exhausted from its long, hard ride, the horse was visibly sweating and frothing at the mouth, and the rider himself nearly fell off his mount.
The trio left their high perch and made their way down quickly and soon came upon the lawn of the castle where most had gathered to greet their brother. But where were the others? Sebastian made his way to stand next to Father Dagrun, who was intently listening to the tired monk and his tale as they took him inside.
“Where are the others?” Father Dagrun asked.
“They sent me ahead to ride as fast as I could just in case they might get caught up, to let you know what happened,” Father Owen explained.
“How far back do you expect they might be?” Sebastian probed.
“I would guess only a couple of miles.”
Sebastian headed his own way, to the stable, with the twins following.
“Where are you going?” Jessica demanded. Jacob gave her a wary look, telling her to stay out of it.
“I am going to find them,” Sebastian shot back as he prepared the horse.
“It’s not safe going by yourself. They will be back soon.” Jessica tried to reason with him.
Sebastian mounted his horse and looked down at her. “They have been out there without me doing what I should have been doing; not all of them are coming back. I will not stand by idly while they are in danger. I am going. If there is a chance I can help I will, or I will be damned.”
He gave the horse a kick and a whip of the reins and off he sped down the lawn and into the woods. Sebastian rode as fast as his horse could go. He passed over obstacles with ease, as he was an expert rider and not many hindrances could halt or slow his progress. He emerged from the woods into one of the many fields dotting the landscape. His first glimpse of hope appeared as a rider emerged from down the slope, riding all out. Then another followed behind … and another. They approached and slowed hesitantly. The monks were worn from their fierce ride, and Sebastian read on their faces the trials they both had been through and knew his tough brothers had been tested more this day than on any other.
Sebastian urged his horse on, reentering woods in front of him, hurtling over fallen trees and dodging the other trees that stood in his way by inches. He caught sight of others in the distance. He never slowed, knowing more of his friends were further behind.
Another field opened up before him and he saw two riders in the moonlight, and some distance behind them two more riders followed. These last riders were different: their eyes shone like stars against the night. This was his destination.
Spurring his horse faster, he made a direct route to intercept the second pair. On his approach both Father Donovan and Father Lemoine noticed the oncoming rider and first thought surely they had been flanked. There was nothing they could do but meet the rider head on. Better to face one than two or three, so they rode hard.
Upon approach they all came at blinding speed. No one slowed, and when they passed with no conflict the monks soon realized who it was. But Sebastian took no note of his friends as he passed. He focused on his hatred and his targets, who likewise took note of what was bearing down on them—an unwise adversary, they thought.
Father Donovan and Father Lemoine brought their horses around but had no time to follow their friend into the line of battle he had chosen. They watched as the riders came closer and prayed for their brave and reckless one while urging their horses on.
On approach, Sebastian pulled a crossbow up from his side, steadied himself and fired one shot, hitting a rider in the chest and knocking him from his horse. Sebastian dropped the weapon, zeroing in on the remaining opponent. Leaping from his mount as he drew near, he soared through the air, landing hard into the rider and sending them both tumbling.
Sebastian was up in an instant and stood waiting. The other fallen rider was up soon after, holding out his bloody dagger as he made his way towards Sebastian very fast, but Sebastian was faster. He dodged the other when he came at him with his failed strike and with ferocity Sebastian struck him in the face with his open hand as he went by. The blow shook his enemy.
Across the way the other made it back to his feet, even with the arrow in his chest. Still in his enraged state, Sebastian walked up to meet his other adversary, who struck at him in a weak attempt and was blocked easily; Sebastian jerked him around, gripping him in a twisted hold. With no thought, he bent over and sank his teeth into the neck of the thing and gorged himself on the struggling fiend until he shook no more.
Sebastian dropped the body to the ground and picking up one of the swords that had gone astray from the fall, he walked over to the other. The figure was trying to stand but too dazed from his previous attack. Sebastian took no note of the figure but raised up the sword and let it fall in a great swoop, severing the head off so cleanly the blade seemed to have only struck the air.
Father Lemoine and Father Donovan rode up just as Sebastian dropped the sword to the ground. He stood there, an otherworldly figure, bloody from his attack. Startled into silence, the pair would not soon forget the glow of Sebastian’s eyes.
Father Lemoine dismounted and walked over to Sebastian, who appeared dazed. He approached him slowly and at great risk to himself given the wanton destruction Sebastian had brought to bear before his friends’ eyes. He took the chance nonetheless, reaching out to place his hand on Sebastian’s arm.
Sebastian turned to acknowledge his friend who had brought him back from his daze, shame filling him with the realization of what they had witnessed. He turned, wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve. Father Lemoine patted Sebastian’s shoulder in a sign of acceptance. Sebastian turned back only for a moment but soon walked away toward his horse, never at peace with himself.
“You are injured.”
Father Donovan noticed Sebastian was bleeding. Sebastian looked down and Father Lemoine also took note of the large cut on the outside of his shirt.
“I am afraid I do not even feel it,” Sebastian said with a pained voice, for a wound like that would have felled the stoutest of men just from the pain. Though he knew he was not just a man, every time somethin
g like this happened it was a harsh reminder.
Father Lemoine helped his friend onto his horse even though he probably didn’t need the assistance. They quickly looked around and rode off in the direction of the monastery. The woods and fields were empty now, and they soon discovered the bonfires that blazed like an abandoned battlefield when all of the killing has already been done, though this battlefield was not yet christened with the bodies of combatants.
Past the edge of the woods they went, entering into the peaceful yard surrounding the castle. They were met by many of the monks that had been reunited with their brothers after the day’s separation. The waiting monks took the last of their fold into their care while Jacob and Jessica looked on from a distance, almost too terrified to approach Sebastian. His bloodied appearance and the fierce look in his eyes told them much. It was unsettling, and they knew he had done what he had set out to do.
chapter THIRTY-THREE
THE WATCH WAS SET. No one was allowed outside of the monastery, and no one was to be left alone. Everyone was to stay tightly knit in their small groups; the only reason for leaving would be to fall in battle. Sebastian disappeared with Father Donovan, and Father Lemoine took the twins with two other monks to one of the towers—the one they had stayed locked up in the night the castle had been infiltrated. Here he gave last instructions to the twins and their protectors. Father Lemoine pulled Jacob over to the side and spoke to him briefly.
“Now we wait. Do not leave this tower. If they come and the opportunity arises we will give you a signal and direction. You know what to do, right? Sebastian has told you. The door here has been reinforced and will only open if you want it to. The others will stay in the room above you with the door closed and will hold off any attack as long as they can.”
saint Sebastian the Rose Page 30
